


Nineteen

by PagetPaulson



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6330145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PagetPaulson/pseuds/PagetPaulson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the back of her mind, she knew she wouldn't be ok.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bolting with his teammates to the door of the house, Hotch held his gun in front of him, never waiting for the others to catch up to him before he kicked down the door. "Move!"

He barged in before the SWAT team could, his eyes immediately hitting the door beside the entrance to the kitchen, and a light bulb in his mind lit. Basement. "This way!" he yelled, throwing open the door and practically barreling down the steps into the cellar.

"Don't," came a deep voice, the team's heads turning to see their Unsub behind Emily who sat in a rickety chair, her body bound.

Hotch's eyes hardened on the criminal, his fingers ready to press down on the trigger. "William Thomas, put the knife down."

"You can't stop me now," the malicious voice laughed. "I'm almost done with my collection."

He could hear his subordinate's heavy breathing, and his eyes quickly made contact with hers. Her dark hair was wet and plastered against her skin, her teeth barred as she bit down on the scarf that had been tied around her mouth to keep her quiet. "Put the knife down," he restated. "Now."

Thomas' grin widened as he leaned into the woman he'd kidnapped, his lips pressing against her sweat soaked hair. "How can I give this one up?" His knife dug into the creamy skin of the agent's neck, his heart beating faster when he didn't hear her make a sound as he drew blood. "She's my prized possession."

"She's a human," Morgan spoke up from behind his boss. "She's no one's possession."

"I found her, and I took her home. She's mine."

The moment the Unsub moved his head just an inch to the right to get a better view of the knife sinking into his captive's skin, Hotch pressed his finger down harder on the trigger than he ever had, charging forward before the other man even fell to the ground to get to his friend.

Finally letting out the breath she'd been holding in, Emily slouched forward, letting her friend fall to his knees before her to start untying her hands. When her first hand was free she quickly reached up and tugged the scarf from her mouth, taking in a breath of the musty air before untying her other hand.

"Can you stand?" her boss asked, undoing the last knot around her ankle before he stood.

She gave a sharp nod of the head before standing up, pushing against the chair for support.

"Emily," he hissed, catching her when she almost stumbled over.

Emily forced herself not to wince as a sharp pain shot from her legs to her head, her hands clenching into her boss' sleeves before she steadied herself. "I'm ok," she nodded, taking her shirt from JJ who had found it on the floor and quickly buttoning it up. "Let's go."

"You have to get checked out."

She refused to meet Hotch's eyes as she walked past him, ignoring the looks from all of her friends as she followed one of the SWAT team members up the basement steps and out of the house. The moment she stepped out of the house and into the cold night, EMTs rushed from the ambulance over to the front door. "Stop," she said forcefully, yanking her arm away from one who tried to usher her over to the bus. "All I need is a couple of bandages and then I'm done."

"Ma'am," a young man said, "you're not wearing pants."

Emily sent him a tense smile that pained her to wear. "Well your lucky I have my underwear," she said shortly.

Walking out the front door, Hotch found his subordinate at the back of the ambulance letting one of the EMTs clean the wound in her neck, and he made his way over.

"You don't need stiches," he overheard the EMT said, "but you have to keep these bandages on for two days, and if you find it's not healing I want you to go to the hospital and they'll stitch you up."

He watched as they undid Emily's top and cleaned the slashes the Unsub had marred her skin with, and the way one of them made her wince had him growing sick. "Does she need to go to the hospital?"

"No she doesn't," Emily answered for herself.

Hotch's eyes moved to one of the EMTs.

The blue eyed woman beside the injured agent shook her head. "She refused to be fully examined at the hospital. We can't force her."

Waiting until the EMTs were done cleaning her cuts and bandaging them up, Emily pushed herself up from the gurney she had sat on and climbed out of the back of the ambulance. "Ok," she huffed, keeping her eyes on her boss as she felt herself grow dizzy. "Are we ready?"

"Ready for what?"

Emily eyed the older man. "To leave," she said matter-of-factly. "The case is over, I'm tired. Let's go."

Hotch kept himself quiet, his stare never faltering.

"Fine, I'll go myself," she shrugged, turning to walk away from the man she'd known for years.

"You don't have a car yourself," her boss pointed out, "and you can barely walk without stumbling. How are you supposed to drive?"

Emily paused. "As long as no one else is on the road, I'm good."

Hotch walked up behind his friend and kept his eyes on the back of her head, his hands clenching at his sides. He wanted to comfort her, but knowing the younger woman she didn't want to be touched right now. "We'll be done soon and then I'll drive you home."

Slowly shaking her head, Emily gave in.

"I'll be right back."

She gave herself a moment before she let herself turn around, and she faced the house she'd been kept in for almost an entire day. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to keep her composure, her eyes quickly closing as she tried to wipe her mind of the past nineteen hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders, the agent with her wine sitting on the table before her and her cold feet covered in her favorite fuzzy socks Garcia had gotten her on a random Saturday felt her stomach twist and turn just looking at the red drink she loved.

She'd been rescued and taken home over four hours ago, and at two in the morning Emily couldn't stop herself from staring out the window of her living room. Not able to look at the treat she had wanted to down the moment she got home, the FBI agent kept her gaze out those ceiling high windows, noticing as raindrops began to hit the clear glass. When she had gotten out of the Unsub's house she had made it a point to look up at the sky, and it was the clearest night she'd seen, but now the stars were covered by smoky black clouds and began to cry.

"Sergio," she called out, her eyes never moving, "come here."

She could hear the cat she'd adopted meow at her before it padded off to the steps and laid down to go to sleep.

Rolling her neck, Emily finally got herself up off of the couch and let her blanket fall to the cushions. "Night buddy," the agent whispered. She heard herself sniffle as she picked up her wine and walked into her kitchen, setting the expensive glass down on the counter. She bent over, staring hard at the red wine she loved so much and wondered why she couldn't bring herself to drink it.

After the day she had all she wanted was to chug each and every bottle she had, but something was stopping her.

Her eyes quickly moved to the box of food her boss had gotten her before dropping her at home, and even looking at the food had her stomach tossing and turning. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't eaten all day and her stomach was refusing to keep anything down, or she was too disgusted with what she went through to even think about filling her stomach. Whatever it was, she was going to bed without food.

If she was going to bed.

"Sergio," she sighed, looking to her cat from her kitchen. "You hungry?"

The black cat licked the fur on his paw before laying himself down.

"Me neither." Emily took the glass of wine and poured the blood red liquid into her stainless steel sink. She let the glass carefully slip from her hand and land in the sink with a gentle 'clink' before walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom.

She passed by her bed and her walk-in closet without bothering to turn on the light, noticing her lights from the bathroom still shining as she walked through the door.

Her reflection wasn't the reflection she had looked at when she'd left home the day before. Under her eye was black and blue, the outer lining already turning a sick yellow. Her hair had finally dried, the greasy roots shining from the light in the bathroom and Emily quickly ran her hands through the dark mess to try and fix it. Looking back to the mirror, it was almost hard to see her skin from all the bandages she saw.

She looked beaten.

Straightening her shoulders, Emily walked up to the sink and let the cold water run over her battered knuckles to try and stop the throbbing she felt.

The EMT had wanted to wrap her hand, but with it bound she'd barely be able to do anything. She'd put up a fight the moment she'd been taken, remembering the punches she got in before the Unsub stunned her with his taser.

"Fuck!" she hissed, pulling her hand out from under the running water when she felt it grow hot, her knuckles burning.

A meow from behind her made Emily's head pop up. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, hearing her heart beating in her ears over the sound of the faucet. Her eyes looked tired, her lips chapped, the look in her eyes making her sick.

She could feel an ache between her legs, and her hand clenched in the t-shirt she wore.

Immediately she switched on her shower and stripped herself of her clothing, her bandages and skin stretching painfully as she undressed. Seeing her naked body in the mirror, knife wounds all over her white skin, she let her fists clench.

_Disgusting._

She didn't waste any time stepping in the shower, ignoring the nausea she felt as she got under the steaming hot spray. The ambassador's daughter grabbed for the wash cloth she kept by her body wash and brought it to her skin, her eyes closing tight as she started to scrub at every inch of her skin. She could feel her bandages coming off and the steam stinging her cuts, and for the first time since being taken she let herself cry as the wash cloth rubbed her skin raw.


	3. Chapter 3

"Just get me the sign off from Strauss and we're all done," the Unit Chief spoke up, handing the file off to his friend to take down the hall. He had been working nonstop to finish up and close Emily's case file, and now that it was Monday he was able to get the signatures of everyone needed to close the case.

Sighing, Hotch let his head bow as he picked up a new case file from his desk and flipped it open, feeling his back already growing stiff so early in the morning.

"Hotch?"

Looking up, the Unit Chief met Morgan's eyes before looking out into the bullpen where his subordinate was gesturing. He watched as Emily walked swiftly over to her desk, avoiding the eyes of everyone around her as she sat herself down and opened up her bag. Immediately he stood, moving past Morgan in his office's doorway and walking down to the desks below his window. "Emily."

The brunette acted as if she didn't hear her boss' call.

"Emily," he stressed, moving around her chair so she'd see him. "What are you doing here?"

Cracking her neck, the ambassador's daughter kept her eyes on the mess she had on her desk. "I'm working."

Her boss felt his veins strain against his skin as he watched his friend open up a case file. "I told you that you had to take time off."

"I did," she nodded, finally looking up at the older man. "Yesterday."

Yesterday had been Sunday, no one was in the office. "Emily," he started, and at that moment he could see his friend's eyes light up with anger. He watched as she got herself ready to say something, and he stepped close to the agent to try and keep their conversation private. "I need you to go home."

Emily hardened her eyes on the dark haired man, her fingers clenching the papers in her hand. "And do what?" she asked. "Sit with my cat and wait for my cuts to heal? Sleep all day? Not be able to drink my favorite wine while I wait for you to let me back here?"

Hotch felt himself frown.

"Nevermind," she shook off, turning back to her desk so she could set down her papers. "Listen Hotch, I can be much more productive here than at home. What am I going to do at home?"

Her boss' shoulders straightened. "It's not an option," he spoke as softly as he could without giving up his authoritative power over the younger woman. "I don't want you in the office."

Emily felt her body freeze.

"If you need, I'll drive you home myself."

Slowly standing up from her seat, the brown eyed woman chose to ignore her superior as she picked up the mug she kept at her desk and passed the older man, making her way toward the kitchenette with everyone's eyes on her.

Hotch saw the way both Reid and Morgan looked at him, and he was quickly off to follow his agent. "Emily."

"Coffee, sir?" she asked, holding out the pot to him.

"This isn't funny," Hotch hissed at her, growing angry at the gentle smile his friend tried to hold on her face. "Put the coffee down. I am taking you home."

Emily slowly set the coffee pot back down before turning to face her boss, her head tilting. "I will not stay at home and let myself relive every single moment of being in that basement," she told him, her voice calm. "Therapy can only do so much. Do you realize how long it took me to get over the Doyle situation? Then everything with Reid and JJ, and now I get taken? _Again_?"

Hotch slowly stood straight, his eyes softening on the brunette before him.

"I'm not going to drown myself in my sorrows," Emily pointed out to the man she trusted with her life. And with good reason; he was the one who saved her time and time again. "I want to work. I _need_ to work, ok?" The more she thought about what happened, the more it hurt.

The single father felt his neck strain as he swallowed. "I can't have you in the office." He watched as so many emotions fought in her features to see which would win out, and slowly he held up his hands in surrender. "Instead of being here, how about we go out?"

Emily's brow furrowed.

"How about I take you to the hospital?" Before the injured woman could make any protests, he made sure to use the look he used on his son when he refused to go to bed. "You are not allowed in the office, I will not let you stay here, but I don't want you to be home by yourself."

Ignoring what her conscience was telling her, Emily let herself listen to the older man.

"I can take you to the hospital so you can be checked out, seeing as how you refused the other day."

"Ok," she growled, "I did not refuse."

Hotch found himself in a glaring contest with the brunette agent. "Did you get checked out or not?"

The only thing that faltered was Emily's hold on her steaming coffee cup, and she set it down on the counter.

He watched as the younger woman straightened out her suit jacket before walking away, and he followed her to her desk where the agent picked up her bag and turned to face him. "Can I take this as a yes?"

"I'm only leaving so I don't get dragged out of here by security," the ambassador's daughter said through grit teeth, letting her boss follow her out the glass doors. "Do you realize how much makeup I put on to cover my bruises today?"

"I'll reimburse you."

Emily looked up to her friend. "Over a hundred dollars?"

Hotch's eyes bugged. "For makeup?"

Slowly shaking her head, she could feel her heart sinking into her stomach with every 'bing' of the elevator.

"I'm not leaving you there alone," the Unit Chief spoke up, his eyes never leaving the steel doors as he reached down and let his fingers gently squeeze at those of the injured woman. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and being through what they had in the past few years he would never leave her alone. "I leave there when you leave."

That was what scared her; what if they didn't let her leave?


	4. Chapter 4

"Are we done?"

The doctor shared a look with the man who had brought the patient before shaking her head. "I'm sorry Agent Prentiss, but we're not finished yet."

It took all the brunette had not to reach over to the man who'd brought her to the hospital and ring his neck.

"Can you undo the top buttons?" the doctor asked, noticing the bruises popping out from underneath the blue material.

Emily hesitated. She had already washed off all of her makeup so the bruises on her face and neck were able to be analyzed, but underneath her clothing everything was so much worse.

Seeing his friend's hesitation, Hotch lifted his head. "I can step out."

She knew her boss had already seen most of her physical trauma, but stripping in front of him would bring her right back to that night. Nodding, her eyes met his. "Thank you."

Waiting until the other agent left the room, the doctor smiled. "It's very nice of him to bring you in."

"Force," Emily corrected. "Force me in."

The doctor took the brunette's blazer, waiting for her to undo her top. "I read your papers," she spoke softly. "I'm very sorry for what happened."

The agent kept herself quiet as she let her shirt fall to the exam table she sat on.

"I want to check you for internal bleeding," she said with a grimace, her fingers dancing over a few bruises on Emily's stomach. "Can I asked what caused this redness?"

Emily gulped, her head turning to look away from the doctor in front of her. "A wash cloth," she answered. Seeing the look the doctor gave her, the agent felt her shoulders straighten, her eyes moving from the doctor's to the wall behind her.

Seeing the discomfort, the blond haired woman stood up. "Do you mind if I take a look at your cuts? I'll clean them and cover them back up, don't worry."

She could feel the bandage just below her shoulder peel from her skin and the air immediately hit her cut. Hiding her wince, Emily kept her eyes above the doctor's head and on the wall across from her.

_"Tilt your head for me, pretty girl."_

The doctor looked up at the small jolt from her patient. "Agent Prentiss?"

Her hands clenched at her sides, her nails clawing into the sanitary paper she sat on.

"Agent Prentiss?"

_"Emily," the Unsub whispered in her ear._

_She could feel her breathing growing heavier as he moved the knife from her neck down to her chest, sliding the blade along her breast._

_"Emmy Emmy Bo Bemmy." Moving his head back, the dark eyed man looked to her. "That's how it goes, right?"_

_Emily shoved her shoulder to get the man who'd captured her away from her body. When the knife dug into her skin, her body hit back into the chair, her head falling back as the Unsub yanked it hard._

_Thomas' fingers threaded through the brunette's sweaty hair, making sure his nails drew blood from her scalp. "Don't make me hurt you," he growled._

"Agent Prentiss?"

Emily's eyes shot over to the woman who stood before her, and she quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry," she choked, immediately putting on a smile. She felt the doctor dab an alcohol pad over one of her other wounds and she pulled her arm away. "I have to go."

The doctor was forced to step back as the FBI agent got herself off of the table. "We're not finished with our exam."

"Yes we are."

Watching as her patient grabbed for her shirt, the doctor's eyes followed her with every movement. "Next on the list is a pelvic exam."

Emily didn't let herself freeze at the words, her fingers buttoning up her shirt.

"Agent Prentiss, I need you to-"

"No," the brunette smiled smally. "I don't need one."

The doctor frowned. "Agent Prentiss, I-"

"I do not need one," Emily stressed, throwing her blazer on over her shirt. She felt the sting of her open cuts pressing against the material of her shirt, and she reached for her briefcase. "I was not raped, I was not assaulted and I don't need a pelvic exam."

"Can I bandage your wounds?"

The brown eyed woman's head shook. "They'll breathe for now," she rushed out, opening the door. "I have to go. Thank you."

She watched as the agent left the room, her hand clutching the alcohol swab she had been using and doing her best not to touch any of the blood. Picking up her pen, the doctor scribbled down Emily's name before making her way over to the phone to call the hospital's psychiatric ward.


	5. Chapter 5

Almost jumping up from her couch, the newly freed woman raced from her living room to the blond in her kitchen. "What are you doing?"

JJ let her friend steal the glass of wine from her hand. "You weren't drinking it."

"That doesn't mean you just throw it out," she almost hissed. Rounding the kitchen counter, Emily set the wine glass down. Another glass of her favorite wine had been poured the moment she'd gotten home from the hospital; for four hours it had been sitting there.

The blond agent watched as Emily's eyes moved with the waving red wine in the glass. "Should I ask how you're doing?"

"You shouldn't."

JJ slowly nodded her head. "Hotch said he took you to the hospital."

Emily's brow rose. "Wow, the big bad Aaron Hotchner opened up about something?" she mused, moving the wine from her line of sight. "Surprising."

"He said you left before the exam was finished."

The brunette woman gave a lazy shrug of the shoulders. "You know I hate hospitals."

JJ looked to the older woman, trying to hide the sad look in her eyes as she watched her friend's fingers fiddle. "Emily," she said softly, walking around to where the damaged woman was standing. "We've all been there. We know what you're going through."

Emily kept her lips sealed, her eyes meeting JJ's.

"We're all here when you want to talk," the blond continued. "I know you, and I know you're not ready yet, but I'm going to be right here."

Before she could reply, though she didn't even know if she could, Emily's eyes moved toward the apartment door when she heard it open. "Hello?"

Reid and Penelope walked into the expensive apartment, the genius looking to his friend the moment he heard the fear in her voice. "Hey."

The ambassador's daughter's shoulders dropped. "Hey," she breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"We invited ourselves," Garcia cheered.

Emily's head bobbed up and down for a nod. Eyeing the blond beside her, she huffed. Everyone seemed to be inviting themselves into her home that night.

The technical genius hurried into the kitchen and put down the take-out bags on the counter. "I had to make sure my raven haired beauty was eating."

Smiling tiredly, the brunette gently nodded her head. "I've eaten. Thank you."

"After the hospital?" the bubbly blond asked with a smile, moving over to her friend's fridge and opening it up. "What did you have?"

"A salad," Emily answered quickly. "Not that I don't love you guys and what you're trying to do, but I'm really not in the mood for company at the moment." It had been a hard enough day having to go to the hospital but with her flashbacks, Emily just wanted to be alone.

JJ shared a look with the genius on their team.

"We can go," Reid nodded.

Emily felt herself grow uncomfortable at the way her friend looked at her, and she slowly moved farther behind the kitchen counter.

"Make a sound for me, Emmy."

"Emily?"

The brown eyed woman blinked, her eyes on the younger man in her kitchen. "Yeah, you guys can go," she nodded. She gave the best smile she could to her genius friend as she gulped. "Can I expect Rossi and Morgan knocking on my door later?"

Penelope's head shook. "They got called into a meeting with Strauss." She pushed the gallon of water she had bought for her friend toward her on the counter and smiled. "We'll get our of your straightened to perfection hair."

Staying a few steps behind her friends, JJ looked back to the ambassador's daughter. "I'll call you when I get home."

"You really don't need to."

"I know," the blond said slowly, stopping her steps and turning to fully face the older woman. "But we need to make sure you're ok."

Emily hid her hands behind the counter as she curled her hands into fists, wanting to slam them down against the granite. "I'm fine," she stressed, finally stepping out from behind the counter. "Please don't call me."

JJ's head shook. "Emily-"

"I get it!"

Penelope's hand flew to find Reid's at their friend's blow up.

"I get that you've been in this position," Emily almost yelled, her voice booming through the apartment. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I don't remember? I know everything we've all been through," she hissed, "I was there for all of it! But right now JJ, I don't want to think about any of this. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to think about it and I don't need you and everyone else breathing down my neck about it."

JJ felt herself tense. "Emi-"

"Stop!" The brunette's eyes stung as she glared her hardest at the woman she called her best friend. " _You_ were not there! _I_ was in the basement," she almost cried, "JJ were you in the basement? Were you there when he stripped me of my clothes and sliced into me?" She tugged down the collar of her shirt. "Do you see these? Do you see how broken I am?"

Reid watched as his friend's eyes filled with tears, his hand slipping from the blonde's as he looked to her. "We should go."

"Emily, you need to sit down."

"Don't-DON'T!" the brunette screeched, fighting the hands that did their best to grab onto her arms.

Hearing the door behind him open, Reid tugged on the knob and saw his boss standing on the other side.

"Reid?"

Garcia reached out and pulled her boss through the doorway. "Help," she rushed out, pushing the older man toward the commotion in the apartment.

Dropping his briefcase and keys, Hotch ran over to his subordinates feet away. "Emily?" He moved JJ out of the way and did his best to take the younger woman's flailing hands in his. "Emily? Emily can you hear me?"

"Stop!"

Hotch tugged the younger woman to his chest, whispering just as he would to his crying son as he held her tight to him, hearing the apartment door close as the other agents left.

"Stop!" she cried, feeling trapped as Hotch's arms wrapped around her back to keep her against him, .. She could feel her head hurting, her chest aching as the man who'd forced her to the hospital practically dragged her down to the floor and she slammed her fists against his chest. "Stop," she choked out, her throat feeling raw as Hotch's hand rubbed against her back. Her jaw dropped just as her hands did, her chin against Hotch's shoulder as he rocked her.


	6. Chapter 6

Her head barely lay on the older man's shoulder almost an hour after her breakdown. Hotch's fingers were gently combing through the ends of her hair to keep her calm, and her tears had stained not only her boss' suit jacket but her hardwood floors, a dark puddle staining the floor just beneath her.

Hotch felt his lips dry out, his free arm around Emily just as it had been when he first took her to his body. Now they lay quietly on her floor between her kitchen and living room, Emily's head on his shoulder just slightly, her eyes finally drying up.

"He scared me."

The Unit Chief kept himself quiet as the brunette beside him finally spoke up.

"I've been through a lot," she spoke, the rawness of her throat and the rasping of her voice making her words foreign to her own ears. "With Cyrus, with Doyle, with so many things, but Thomas scared me." Emily kept her focus on Hotch's tie, feeling the older man continue to comb through her hair. "This time I didn't know if I would make it."

Slowly, Emily built up her courage. "I was waiting for you at the SUV when he came up behind me."

He had been beating himself up about that from the moment he realized his coworker was missing.

Emily's lips rolled inward. "I fought back, but he had a stun gun. When I woke up, my hands were hanging from the ceiling and my legs were tied." Her fingers gently unclenched and moved along Hotch's tie. "He yelled at me," she spoke quietly, "he spit at me. It felt like hours before he started taking off my clothes."

Feeling his agent's head move to rest fully on his shoulder, Hotch wrapped his arm tighter around her.

"He first cut me at my throat." Her hand wanted to come up and touch the bandaged wound. "And he moved down my body until he cut the soles of my feet."

"Did the hospital say you were infected?"

Emily almost jumped at his voice. "My cuts are clean," she nodded. Staying quiet for another moment, the dark haired woman decided; whether or not to keep on with her story.

Hotch took a chance and leaned into the younger woman, pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead."

"I'm scared he's still here," she whispered frightenedly, almost scared of how close she realized her boss to be. "I feel like he's going to show up when I try and sleep and I'm going to have no skin left." Blowing out a breath, she watched as Hotch's tie moved across his chest. "I don't want to undress and see my cuts. I don't want to look into any of my mirrors."

Hearing the younger woman's breathing shift, the Unit Chief moved his gaze to the ceiling. "After Foyet, Jack would ask me questions about my scars.

Holding back her tears, Emily's head laid fully on the older man's chest.

"I had to do my best not to break down every time he'd walk into the bathroom and my shirt would be off," he said softly. "But one time, I started crying, and Jack did his best to sit me down on the edge of our tub and he put his hand over the scar above my heart. He told me he was glad to have a superhero daddy and that he liked my prizes." His head nodded as he spoke. "That's what he calls my scars."

Emily gulped as she listened to him speak.

"You have souvenirs," the Unit Chief nodded. "They're prizes you have because you won."

The brunette could feel her heart beating faster as Hotch's fingers left her hair and ran down to the base of her neck. "I have one prize too many," she choked out.

Hotch started his whispering in her ear again, his hand running down her back to keep her shivers to a minimum as he tried to stop her from starting up another panic attack. "Do you know why I came here?" When all he heard from the sound of her breathing, Hotch kept on. "I got a call from the hospital because the doctor who checked over you called the psych ward."

Emily immediately froze in his hold.

"Calm down," he whispered, his fingers moving back to Emily's dark hair and running them through it. "Calm down. They don't want to commit you."

The brunette's eyes watered as she gripped the lapel of her boss' suit jacket.

"They called to recommend a psychologist they have on standby for when you're ready to talk." He slowly helped the younger woman sit up, his hands coming up to bring her arms away from her chest and unclench her hands. "Come on."

She let him help her stand. "I can walk."

Hotch kept his hands in hers anyway, taking her to the stairs and leading her up to the room he assumed was her bedroom. "Can I help with your cuts?" His subordinate had run from the hospital before they could be cleaned again, and he could see the blood beneath the new bandages she'd slapped on there so no one could see.

Emily's scared eyes shot up to the older man's.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

She followed him into the bathroom and gently took her hands from his, watching as her boss turned on her faucet and turned back to look to her with sympathy in his eyes. "I can't fit him in a box."

Hotch slipped off the brunette's slippers, kneeling on the ground and letting Emily hold onto his shoulders. "He doesn't need a box." Standing back up, he looked into her dazed eyes. "You've gone to therapy before."

Emily's lips thinned, looking away from the man trying to care for her. "That doesn't mean I get rid of my boxes." That was all she'd ever known. Feeling him on her hand, the agent tugged it back. "I can do it," she said shakily, leaning back against her sink and undoing the buttons of her shirt.

He turned his back, taking the liberty to open the small cabinet near the toilet bowl and take out a few washcloths.

"Fuck," she hissed, peeling off one of the band aids near her collarbone, the give taking off the small amount of scabbing she had and letting new blood rush out. She too the washcloth from Hotch and ran it under the water. "These were expensive," she huffed, setting it against her bleeding cut.

"How long have you had boxes?"

Emily gasped, the Unit Chief stripping off two more poorly laid band aids as he asked the question. "Since seventy-four," she supplied, her eyes flickering up to his reflection behind her before she rang out the washcloth.

Hotch's eyes lifted. "You were three."

"That's old enough to have boxes."

"No one should have boxes," he replied, waiting until Emily's eyes finally met his in the mirror. "I'm not going to force you to talk, but I'm going to be here when you need to."

Emily wanted to shrug out of his hold. She wasn't used to having people. "I know."

Taking the disinfectant, he made sure the brunette was ready before he poured it on the cuts on her back. He could see her grimacing in the mirror as she continued to peel off her bandages, Hotch letting the wounds bubble before he leaned over her shoulder to wet the washcloth he held.

She didn't wince when he brushed against her. "I want to go to bed."

"You must be tired," he agreed, turning away to find the bandages.

Her eyes had just dried and she could feel them stinging with tears once again as she bent her head, playing with the washcloth she held over the sink. She had tried her best the past few nights to sleep, but every time she gave in and closed her eyes she could hear Thomas' voice in her ear, feel his hands on her skin.

_"Emmy," he laughed, noticing his captive's sweat dripping down between her breasts, "sing with me."_

"Emily?"

_"Emmy Emmy Bo Bemmy."_

Hotch's hands went to take the younger woman's arms as she almost shot forward, ready to shove her hands through the mirror she had been looking into. "Hey!" He pulled her back, her body hittin ghis chest with such force he almost got the wind knocked out of him.

"I just want to go to bed," she croaked, her nails painfully digging into the palms of her hands.

The dark haired man's cheek pressed against his friend's head as he wrapped his arms around her front, keeping the beautiful brunette from hurting herself, listening to her cries growing louder than the running faucet. "I've got you," he whispered back to her, his hand cupping over hers against her chest. "I'm right here."


	7. Chapter 7

Waking up from the forty minutes of sleep she had finally been able to get, Emily found herself lying beside the older man who had promised to take care of her. She sat up, her hand to his chest as she looked around the room.

It had been two days after he had watched her break down in her own apartment and he had stayed with her every moment over the next few days.

She stood from her bed, leaving her boss to stay sleeping on her pillow as she padded out of the room and down the stairs. She was grateful for him, but it felt weird having someone with you every moment of the day, looking after you.

Different.

Brushing her hair back, the quiet woman dropped some dry food into Sergio's bowl before opening up the fridge and taking out the eggs. She made sure to look at the expiration date before opening up the carton.

A purr from her favorite man had the agent smiled gently as she put a pan on the stove. "I'm hungry too, Serg." She had barely eaten a thing since she'd come back from the hospital, her nerves too much to keep anything down.

"What are you up to?"

Emily kept her eyes on the egg she cracked into the pan, sensing her boss entering the kitchen. "Breakfast," she almost whispered. Looking to the microwave she saw that it was only after six in the morning.

She was surprised they had been in bed that long without her having a panic attack.

"How did you sleep?"

Emily's lips pursed as she reached for the spatula. "The whole hour?" she asked. Without turning her head the FBI agent knew he was looking at her from his spot near the fridge. "Fine I guess."

Hotch walked up behind the younger woman and looked at the cuts on her neck.

"I'll flip this on you if you come any closer."

"Feisty," the Unit Chief remarked, trying not to smile at the joke. Her sarcastic self was starting to come back. "Do you mind making an extra?"

Emily finally looked over her shoulder to see the disheveled man. "You didn't think I'd already be making one for you?" Her teeth gnawed into her bottom lip, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she looked back to her breakfast. "Yours is first."

"Coffee?"

She didn't even have to reply before the older man was pouring her cup and putting in her two splenda.

The tired woman looked up from the stove, watching her friend sit across from her at the kitchen counter. "You don't have to stay here every day, you know."

Hotch kept himself patient. "Are we going to have this conversation every day?"

Emily was quiet, shrugging her shoulders.

"How do you feel?"

The brunette let out a breath, sliding the egg out of the pan and onto the plate for the brunette before her. "Mentally? Physically? Emotionally?" Her face was stone cold as she put the plate before him. "What's the pecking order today?"

The Unit Chief picked up a fork for himself. "Too early to talk?"

"A little," she agreed, cracking another egg into the pan.

Watching as the battered woman moved the egg around in the frying pan, his eyes softened. This was the most he was getting out of her in the past few days. "That might be too heavy for your stomach," he cautioned her.

"Then I get to spend some time in the bathroom later on." Emily rubbed some crust from under her eye before putting her egg on the plate she had ready. "Right now, I'm hungry."

Hotch watched with careful eyes as the younger woman sat down near him at the kitchen counter, taking another packet of splenda and pouring it into her coffee to wake her up. He had wished she'd eat for the past few days he'd been there with her, but knowing what would happen after she ate her breakfast wasn't something he was looking forward to.

"Are you going to stare at me until noon or eat your breakfast?"

The Unit Chief kept himself still. "I can do both."

Emily pierced a piece of egg with her fork before hesitantly bringing it up to her lips. Immediately the smell of the food had her stomach rolling, but she put the egg between her lips anyway.

"Any recent flashbacks?"

Hotch had realized on his own what that night in the bathroom had been, only two hours later the brunette woman having another meltdown because she had thought Thomas had popped up behind her as she sat in her bed. Recounting the number of times he had calmed her down over the past few days, he remembered a saddening nineteen times.

Emily slowly chewed the food she made for herself, her eyes on the granite of her countertop. "Yes," she said quietly. Looking up from her food, she watched as her boss took a sip of his coffee. "Feeling like going into work today?"

"Nope."

Her shoulders slouched. It was like she was a prisoner in her own home.

"Want to go and finish your exam at the hospital?" he asked her, meeting her eyes for only a moment before Emily looked away.

"Nope."

The single father nodded along with the silence that came after her quick response. "Then we've reached an impasse."

Continuing to chew the eggs in her mouth Emily let the silence between them lengthen. She didn't want him to leave, Hotch was her only source of comfort after her abduction, but the way he continued to fuss over her was driving her a little insane.

She could feel her stomach starting to turn as she swallowed her second bite, and she quickly took another sip of her coffee.

"You ok?" The older man watched as his friend wiped her mouth with a napkin. When she gave a rapid nod of the head, he set his own coffee down on the countertop. "Want to play a game?"

Emily made a face. "Like a board game?" As her brow rose, she could feel the bruises around her eyes aching.

Hotch was quick to shake his head. "I remember when you were seventeen you were very into studying serial killers." He saw the remembrance pass along his friend's face. "Tell me your favorite case to study."

The brunette gently chewed on her bottom lip. "Charles Manson," she nodded. Thinking for a moment, she sat straighter in her seat. "After college, I got interested in Jeffrey Dahmer."

"Why those?"

"Manson's cult," the agent spoke softly. "It's always been so interesting to me: how someone can get so many people to follow them into a demise. How Charles Manson got all of his followers to kill seven people for no reason is still insanely fascinating to me."

Hotch nodded, watching that familiar look of curiosity pass through those dark eyes. "What about Dahmer?"

Emily swallowed, feeling her stomach clench.

The Unit Chief was quick on his feet, chasing the younger woman back into the kitchen. He held her hair back, his hand rubbing soothing circles in the center of her back as she threw what little breakfast she had consumed into the sink.

Hands gripping the edge of the stainless steel sink, Emily let the leftover acid in her mouth drip to her lip before she spit it out.

"Here."

She turned, taking the small bottle of water and rinsing her mouth out. "The way he killed," she choked out, spitting once more into the sink. Standing upright Emily looked to the older man and took the paper towel he held out. "Dahmer was always one for creativity."

"Do you need to sit down?"

Emily sighed, shaking her head and feeling her healing cuts straining slightly. "I'm fine. You were right about the food," she shrugged. "I'll be ok in a few minutes."

Hotch handed her back the water bottle. "Let me get you a washcloth."

She watched him travel back up her stairs and to the master bathroom, and she settled a hand on her stomach. Eyes wide, the bruised woman looked down to her stomach and frowned.


	8. Chapter 8

She had surprised the older man when she told him she was taking a cab to the hospital.

Emily had spent a few more hours with her boss, having to think about the reason she hadn't been able to keep anything down after her try with breakfast that morning. She had let her friend make her toast, and she had thrown that up. An hour later she tried a cup of orange juice and she was barely able to keep that down.

When it was finally lunch time Emily had dropped the bomb that she was headed back to the hospital, and immediately the BAU Unit Chief was suspicious.

"I want to go and finish my exam," she had told him as she slipped on her jacket.

"What's wrong?"

Emily's head had shaken, her messy locks falling in front of her eyes. "I just want to get it over with. I don't need you dragging me back there tomorrow because we're having the same fight for the tenth time."

Hotch had stood from his spot on the couch. "Let me drive you."

"I want to go alone." It had hurt her to see her friend look so offended by the notion of wanting to go by herself, but if her assumption was correct then she didn't want anyone there.

She didn't even want to be there.

"I'll call you, ok?" She hadn't waited for the older man to put up an argument before she ran out the door.

Being who she was the agent had wanted to jump into her car and take a few minutes for herself before getting herself to the hospital, but she knew with what she was going through it wasn't best for her to be driving.

Emily took a few minutes to finally get a cab to stop for her before she sat herself quietly in the backseat. Her shoulders were stiff, her fingers picking at the flimsy material of the seat she sat on and her eyes darted from one car to the other.

_"Let's see how loud you scream."_

The brunette's eyes slammed shut at the voice pricking through her ears.

"Ma'am?"

Slowly letting her head lift, she nodded to let the driver know she was listening.

Frowning, the older man watched her in the rearview mirror. "Are you alright?" Stopping at the traffic light, he turned to look at the woman in his backseat. "You need water or something?"

"I'm fine." Her words barely whispered into the air. Forcing her eyes open, she tried to calm herself down with a smile sent to the driver. "Thank you."

When the cab started back up Emily made sure to look as natural as she could. It was one thing to not feel ok, to not feel normal, but to look it was something completely different. Growing up in the public eye, Emily made sure to keep the teachings from her childhood with her for the rest of her years.

"We're here, ma'am."

Reaching into her pocket to pay the driver, the agent was surprised when he held up a hand.

His head shook. "Not necessary." Seeing the way the woman was behaving in his backseat, he knew she was having a tough day.

Emily's face fell. "Are you sure? It's no problem, I have money."

"If you try and pay me, I'll kick you out of my cab."

The brunette's dark eyes brightened slightly at the levity he was trying to bring to the situation. Someone she didn't know trying to make her feel better made it feel like those walls crowding her were slowly moving away. "Thank you."

Stepping out of the cab, Emily gave herself a minute to breathe before walking inside the doors of the hospital. If she stood outside too long and stared at the exterior of the building then she wouldn't build up the courage to finally go in, but if she rushed herself to get inside then she wouldn't be able to stay within its walls.

Her pace to the front desk in the ER was steady, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets.

"Can I help you?"

Emily looked up to see the friendly nurse who had been there the day Hotch had forced her back into this exact building.

"Agent Prentiss," she smiled, noticing the brunette immediately. Her hair was a little messy and she wasn't as dressed up as she had been the other day, but those sad eyes and the way she kept her shoulders ticked her memory right away. "How are you today?"

The brunette stepped a little closer to the desk. "I need see Dr. Suns. I have to finish my exam."

A scream from a woman behind them had everyone's attention turning toward the doors.

"Give me a few minutes, Emily."

The brunette jumped out of the way of the mother running by her son's side as the EMTs from the ambulance carried him through the ER. She sat, watching with wide eyes as nurses helped a gunshot victim and a doctor came out to hurry a boy bleeding from his ears into the nearest room.

"Agent?"

_"Emmy?"_

The white haired woman's eyes narrowed as she watched the familiar woman rock back and forth in her seat. "Agent?" The brunette's eyes never moved from their spot on the wall. "Emily? Can you hear me?"

Emily's head almost spun off her shoulders as she looked back to the nurse behind the desk.

"You can come back now."

Taking a deep breath, Emily let her feet touch the ground and lifted her hands from the chair she sat on before she finally stood. "Thank you," she nodded, trying to focus her eyes before she looked back to the nurse.

Smiling, the white haired woman typed Emily's name into the computer. "Now what part of the test didn't you finish?"

_"Emmy Emmy Bo Bemmy."_

"Emily?"

_"Open up your legs for me," he grinned, his slimy hairs falling in front of his eyes. "My pretty Emmy."_

Her eyes snapping over to the older woman, the FBI agent felt her palms start to sweat. "A rape kit."


	9. Chapter 9

Sitting in the paper gown on the gynecological table by herself, Emily could feel the walls growing closer to her. Her hands tightened in the stiff material, watching the door as she heard the clock tick away behind her.

She felt cold, her feet touching the side of the table. Every time her heel would lightly bounce off the cold surface she would feel chills run up the backs of her legs and up her spine.

"I'm not scared," the nervous woman whispered to herself, her eyes so wide she could feel them drying out. "I'm not scared."

_"You're not screaming for me," Thomas growled into her ear, glaring down to the woman whose head was turned away. "Scream!"_

Emily's eyes snapped shut at the memory. She could practically feel his breath in her ear and the spittle from his lips landing on her skin. "I'm not scared."

"Emily?"

"I'm not scared," the agent almost hissed.

_"Emmy?"_

Hearing the door to her exam room shut the brunette slowly let her eyes peel open, and she found herself looking at the familiar woman with blond hair. "Hi," she rushed out, sitting straighter in her seat. "Hi."

The doctor gave the obviously shaken up woman a small smile. "It's good to see you again, Emily. Thank you for coming back in."

"I just want to finish my exam," she nodded.

Dr. White set down the file of the older woman. "I understand, but because it's been a few days and you sure have to had showered since then, I cannot do a rape kit on you."

Emily's head shook. "I don't need a rape kit." He raped her, she knew that. "I need to test for STDs," the brunette woman shrugged, ignoring the look in the doctor's eyes. "Pregnancy."

"Do you have any symptoms?"

The brunette's brow pinched as she looked down to her lap. "I've been sick," Emily nodded. She let the younger woman take her arm so she was able to get a blood sample. "I haven't really been able to keep any food down. I'm not sure if I've had any STD symptoms."

The doctor kept her smile on as she found a good vein in the agent's arm. "Close your hand into a fist for me."

Emily licked her lips, eyes on the fist she was making. "I'll have options, right?"

"If you are pregnant, there are options," Dr. White agreed with a nod of the head. "If you are pregnant, there is the morning after pill although it may not work due to your extended period of time. There's also abortion, and if you want you can have the baby."

She could feel herself growing sick just thinking about carrying his baby.

"Emily?" Dr. White tilted her head as she tried to get the attention of the older woman. "Stay with me."

_"Emmy?" Thomas leaned down and leveled himself over the brunette woman's body. Bearing his teeth, he bit down hard into the unmoving woman's ear and felt her body jerk underneath him. "Can you hear me?"_

The FBI agent felt her breath quicken. "I don't want it."

Dr. White gave a sympathetic look to the distraught woman, putting a band aid over her inner elbow. "We don't know if you're pregnant or not," she reminded the agent. "Let's get out test results back before any decisions are made."

Emily tried to let herself be calmed by the eyes of the doctor, slowly nodding her head to show she understood.

"I'm going to test for your STDs and send this off, and then we're going to do a standard pregnancy test to make sure we have a conclusive answer."

The ambassador's daughter held her breath as she laid back against the exam table, putting her feet in the stirrups. "I wanted to apologize." She could barely hear her voice, her eyes focused on the lights staring back down at her. "For running out the other day."

Dr. White smiled to the unknowing woman, sitting herself down at the end of the table. "I don't need an apology. I'm not going to say I understand, but I support you. Alright?"

Emily kept herself quiet as she hesitantly nodded her head.

Forty-five minutes later, Emily was zipping up her jacket and leaving the exam room. It had taken her a little while after the doctor had finished her exams and testing to finally sit herself back up and get herself changed. She couldn't stop herself from seeing Thomas above her as the doctor made sure she hadn't torn, hearing him in her ear every time Dr. White asked her a question.

_"You're going to stay with me forever."_

She took the hair stuck underneath the collar of her jacket and pulled it out, walking back into the waiting room of the first floor to wait until her test results were back in her hands. Dr. White said it would take hours even if she rushed them, but Emily couldn't leave without an answer.

Her hands ran over the rough material of her seat, her fingernails scratching at the surface.

_"Emmy?"_

She kept her eyes on the nurse's station in front of her, doing her best to ignore the voices of the others in the waiting room and the conversations going on around her. The more she kept to herself, the less she could have anyone bring back her memories.

Feeling something hit the back of her chair had the agent practically jump out of her skin, her neck almost snapping as she turned around to see a little boy climbing on the chair behind hers.

"Sorry," he whispered, his fingers in his mouth as he ran back over to his mother.

Emily's scared eyes watched as the four year old scampered away. Her hands went to the arm rests of her chair, her body stiff as she slowly turned back around in her seat and faced the nurse's station.

_"Imagine what your team would think about how much fun we're having," he laughed, almost giggling into her ear._

The brunette could feel her eyes stinging as she looked around the room. She could feel someone watching her.

_"Emmy Emmy Bo Bemmy."_

Fingers clenching in the material of her seat, the agent bit down hard on her cheek. Her head bent, she let her hands come up and cover her ears, trying to block out the voice she heard.

_"Emmy?"_


	10. Chapter 10

Hotch sped up to the emergency room entrance doors, screeching to a halt behind an ambulance. Pulling the keys from the ignition, the BAU Unit Chief jumped from his seat and rushed into the hospital. "Emily Prentiss?" he asked the front desk, bypassing a few people trying to get the nurse's attention. "Her doctor called me, it's an emergency."

The blond didn't look up from her computer.

Growing frustrated, the agent took his badge from his jacket pocket and shoved it in the face of the younger woman. "Emily Prentiss. Now!"

His voice boomed around the emergency room, startling the nurses behind the front desk. The young woman held her breath, afraid if the agent before her heard it he would scare her again. "Emily Prentiss," she rushed out, her eyes searching the page on the computer screen. "Psychiatric ward. Room 623."

Hotch closed his badge and slipped it back into his breast pocket before racing off to find the elevators.

He couldn't stop worrying. Emily was his friend, had always been the one he went to for advice and vice versa, but lately it had been as if he were taking care of a child. She was scared all the time, never wanted him to leave her side, and he understood that. She wasn't ready to be who she once had been.

Taking the empty elevator and pressing the button to shut the doors before anyone else could get in and slow down his venture up to the sixth floor, Hotch couldn't feel his heartbeat calming down underneath his breastbone. It was pumping so hard, beating up against his rib bones. It was so hard, threatening to beat out of his chest, that he could feel the vibrations down in his stomach.

The elevator dinged for the sixth time and the agent was out of those metal doors before they had barely even opened.

His eyes darted from room number to room number, hearing the screams of patients down the hall and doctors trying to get them to quiet down. He quickly came to a door, and he slipped out his badge once more to show to the guard. "I was called to see Emily Prentiss," he said strongly, brushing past the security guard once he nodded for him to pass.

For some reason as he approached the open doorway to his friend's room, he could feel himself slowing down. Was he nervous that she had done something to herself? That she had possibly had another breakdown and threatened the life of someone near her? Was that why she was put in psych?

Cautiously stepping into the hospital room, his eyes met those of the brunette in the bed, watching as the nurses gently took her wrists from the binds.

"Aaron?"

His chest hurt at the pathetic sound of her small voice, the tears still evident.

The doctor made her way over to the hostile room's newcomer, making sure she spoke clearly as her patient begged to see her friend. "Agent Hotchner, I should advise you to try and keep her calm."

"What happened?"

The blue eyed woman took a breath as she heard her patient begging the nurses to let her out of the room. "She came back to finish up her testing because the first time she had run out on me." She slowly shook her head, doing her best to keep her voice low. "After getting her results, I thought she fainted. She had collapsed to the floor and I went to help her up, but she lashed out at me. I had to call in a few nurses and guards to help sedate her."

Hotch's eyes flickered back over to the brunette in her bed, watching as her back bent like a bow, her neck straining. "How long ago was that?"

"About an hour," she nodded. "I had to get her up here and locked down before I could call you."

Moving around the younger woman, the FBI agent made his way toward the hospital bed, giving the nurses around his friend some room to finish up what they were doing.

Emily's dark eyes were glued to those of the older man, her back bending and muscles straining as she tried to get herself out of the bed they had confined her to. "I want to leave," she cried, noticing her friend growing closer to her. "Please let me leave."

Hotch assured the nurses he had her with a small wave of the hand. He sat down on the edge of her bed, gripping her newly freed hand when she reached for him. "We can't let you leave."

The brunette's eyes slammed shut, her head falling back against her pillow.

He let himself lie down next to the sobbing woman just like they had done on her living room floor. "Don't cry," he whispered, his arm reaching over her as she burrowed into his chest and tried to calm herself down. Gently running his hand over her hair, Hotch pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I don't want it."

Hotch frowned. Pulling back so he could see the younger agent's tear stained face, he brought his fingers to her chin to get her eyes to meet his. "What?"

The doctor slowly stepped up to the side of the hospital bed. "Her pregnancy test came back positive."

Emily's head shook, not wanting to hear the words that had caused her breakdown. She gripped Hotch's arms tighter as she tried to sink back into her bed, her chest aching as she cried. "I don't want it," she gasped, feeling a painfully hot coil twisting within her abdomen. "I don't want it."


	11. Chapter 11

Eyes dull, the pregnant woman stared at the credits rolling down her television screen. She could feel Hotch move next to her, his heat pressing into her side.

For two days she had barely moved. Once Hotch had persuaded the hospital to discharge her, he had taken Emily straight home. She had stopped screaming long enough to break down in his arms when he had led her up to her bedroom to get changed.

She had cried until she ran dry, lying in her boss' lap like a rag doll.

Picking herself up, Emily had let the older man lead her into the bathroom so she could clean the hospital stench from her hair.

He had prepared her food, laid out her clothes and slept on the couch when she refused to leave the recliner for bed.

In all honesty, Hotch had never been so fearful for the younger woman. She had rarely cried or even sought out someone to talk to; a breakdown was never something Hotch thought he would see from her.

An now she wasn't talking. Maybe she was tired from everything that happened, or maybe she was scared. His son had never wailed as hard as Emily had in that hospital.

"Do you want some tea?"

Emily felt her eyes blink heavily. Slowly she shook her head, her arms wrapped around her knees so she could hug them to her chest.

The older man turned off the television, sitting up on the couch. "Emily, you need to eat something." She hadn't taken the eggs or the sandwich he had made her all that morning, and whether she liked it or not, she had to keep herself healthy for the baby. "Are you hungry?"

Another shake of the head.

He stood, taking the unfinished cup of tea from in front of Emily and dumping it in the kitchen's sink.

"You should go."

Her voice was so soft Hotch was sure he had imagined it at first. Turning back to the living room, he saw Emily setting her legs down and her feet to the floor. Her eyes were still glued to the television, but he could see they had focused.

Clearing her throat, the brunette finally moved her eyes from the screen and stared down to her sweats. She felt dizzy. "I don't need you."

What should have been a sting to his ego only had him knowing how hurt she was to say those words out loud. "Emily," he said softly. Walking over to the couch, he sat near her and waited for her to stop shaking her head. "Can you look at me?"

Emily's forehead scrunched and her eyes watered.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, sweetheart." He wanted to reach over to her and take her hands, but they were shoved underneath her thighs so she wouldn't pick her nails. "Emily?"

"I don't want it."

Hotch sat himself across from her on the coffee table, trying his best to look into her eyes.

Letting out a breath, the pregnant woman could feel her eyes stinging, and she finally looked up. "I don't want it," she whispered painfully into the air, her eyes up to the ceiling. "I don't want it."

"They said you have to wait until the medication has left your system before you can even think about having the pregnancy terminated," he reminded her softly. "What's best for now is making sure you eat and drink enough so the both of you are healthy."

Emily hesitated before finally looking into the eyes of the older man. "The both of us," she repeated, her voice a whisper. "Me _and_ the baby."

Hotch watched the turmoil cross the agent's features as she tried to process the words.

"We're an 'us' now. I don't want it thinking its father and I were an 'us'," she almost spit out, "and I don't want to feel the way I'm feeling."

"How are you feeling?"

Tears were pouring down her face by this point, falling into Emily's open mouth as she tried to catch her breath. "Heavy." She put her hand to her stomach, cringing at the warmth she felt there. "I can feel them in here. I can feel the baby, and I hate it."

Hotch sat closer to the edge of the table and reached forward, taking Emily's hand from her stomach and holding it in his.

"I don't need you here," she hissed. "You can't make my decision."

"But I can wait with you and take care of you until you make it," Hotch challenged her. "I can sit here and wait with you if that's what you want. You don't have to talk to me." He made sure his eyes bore into hers, finally comfortable enough to get angry with her. "Whether you like it or not, I am going to stay here. I will sit with you in silence or you can tell me what happened in that basement so it's finally off your chest."

She stole her hand away from him.

"I can't make your decision, you're right about that; I won't even give you my thoughts on the subject. But I am not leaving."

She could feel her body shaking, so her arms wrapped themselves around her torso and rocked.

He watched her cry for over ten minutes before taking her wet cheeks in his hands. "Talk to me." Hotch wiped her tears away with his thumbs, keeping her head still. "Tell me what you're feeling."

Emily felt pathetic. She was sure her face was red, her eyes and lips swollen, and her tears flooding her cheeks. "I've been pregnant before. I aborted it."

The revelation was too painful for Hotch that he couldn't find the words.

"I don't want to do it again," she cried, "but I have to."

Frowning, the Unit Chief pulled the pregnant woman closer to him. "Why? Why do you have to?"

Emily's head shook. "My rapist's baby?" the brunette squeaked out. "How am I supposed to raise something like that?"

"Your baby is not just 'something'." Hotch breathed out his nose as he got himself off of the table and knelt down before his friend. "It's a baby. It's _your_ baby."

The brunette let her friend bring their bodies closer, his forehead almost touching hers. She felt cold, his warm hands against her skin doing nothing to help. Sniffling, she burrowed closer to her friend to keep warm. "Would you hate me? If I didn't have the baby?"

Hotch's chest tightened at the pain in Emily's voice. "I could never hate you."

She flung herself into his arms and continued to cry, feeling more dehydrated than she had in days.

He felt her arms immediately wrap around his neck and he wrapped his around her torso, feeling her small baby bump touch him. "I'm staying right here," he said strongly, kissing the grease in her hair that locked itself to her curling strands when she had forgotten to shampoo. "I promise."


End file.
